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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157959">Dregs &amp; Rejects</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass'>scorpionGrass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Shin-Ra Military Academy, Wall Market (Compilation of FFVII)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:21:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Madam M has a reputation for helping lost, downtrodden girls who find themselves in Wall Market, but she's never helped a girl like Elena before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Highly inspired by the Before Crisis bit where we find out Elena used to work at a bar in Wall Market. I've always wanted to do something with that information and then the Remake gave us Madam M and I was like "okay it's Time."</p><p>This fic is mostly written so updates should be weekly :3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sector 6’s Wall Market has always been unique. The smell of stale alcohol and smoke permeate the streets, bordered by walls, with each of its four corners holding its most legitimate businesses. Madam M takes pride in the quiet of her corner, away from the garish neon lights and pulsing nightlife of the rest of the Sector.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She promises relaxation, and her side of Sector 6 delivers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet night, and Madam M stands outside her parlour, her fan in one hand, long opera cigarette holder in the other. She waves her last client goodbye, revelling in the dazed look he has in his eyes as he walks back into the hustle and bustle of Wall Market.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cigarette is almost done, so she savours the last few puffs before putting it out in a decorative Wutian vase just outside the parlour’s doors. She’s about to head back inside when she hears hurried footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Madam M!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns, graceful and curious, and flicks her fan open. “Aren’t you a bit young to be here?” she asks, staring down at the newcomer, a blonde with lusciously thick high pigtails wearing a schoolgirl uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought,” the girl says, panting with her hands on her knees as if she ran the entire underpass, “things like age don’t matter here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M’s lips lift into a tight smile. “Wall Market may not care, but I do my best to protect cute young girls who take wrong turns. Though it seems you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl straightens up and pushes her shoulders back, and it’s only now that Madam M sees the determination in her eyes, underneath bangs that stick to her forehead with sweat. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you, girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elena.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No surname?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “No,” she says firmly, like there’s no room for question. So, a girl who wants to keep her identity secret? Not a bad tack for someone new to Wall Market.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not here for Don Corneo?” It’s a question worth asking, considering the number of girls who see the disgusting troll of a man for his money and not the rest of his unsavoury self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M gives her a discerning once-over and nods. “Fine. Come in. Away from listening ears and prying eyes,” she says, opening the doors to her parlour. “What can I help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only when the doors click shut behind them that Elena speaks again. “I need to earn some money, get a job, and was told you’re the one to ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Couldn’t get an upstanding job topside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena blinks, brow furrowing. “What—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetie, you’re still wearing your uniform. Shin-Ra’s Military Academy, no less,” Madam M points out, using her fan to gesture at the girl, from head to toe, watching all her confidence drain. “It’s not a cheap ride, tuition to a school like that. How’d you get in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M specifically doesn’t mention the girl’s ratty sneakers, the torn hem of her skirt, or the clearly hand-me-down size of her sailor top, which was too wide in the shoulders. A slum girl, she guesses. One who got lucky with a scholarship, or part of one of the charity programs. Not that any of that matters when she’s here in Wall Market. She watches as Elena’s cheeks redden with frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care?” she bites, hands clenched into fists. Even through the tough act, Madam M can see she’s trembling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t get a job here looking like an innocent little lamb in headlights, dear,” she says gently, changing tack. “We’ll need to make you look the part”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps back around the counter, pulling out a decorative lacquer box with Wutian designs on it. Elena’s eyes watch it warily, shoulders only relaxing when Madam M lifts the lid to reveal a carefully curated collection of makeup. Powders compacts, tubes of lipstick, palettes filled with colourful eyeshadows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have a venue in mind?” Madam M asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, pigtails swinging. “Um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spit it out, girl,” she says, before adding disdainfully, “But if you say the Honeybee Inn, even they have an age limit for the hostesses and dancers. We’re not completely lawless here, like some might suggest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks again to Don Corneo and scowls. Too many girls down on their luck end up in Wall Market, gambling off whatever they have left, drinking up tabs they can’t pay off, or working in the back alleys for a quick buck. Luckily, Sam and Andrea, the other two corners in the walled-up mess of Sector 6, hire often and have moral codes of their own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M sends most of the girls who come to her to them, knowing they’ll be treated right, but Andrea’s nightclub is out of the question for a high schooler. Not to mention, Elena barely has the assets to fill in the dance costume. Maybe with age, she’d fill it out, but it’s not worth thinking about now. And Sam only takes those tough enough to wrangle a chocobo, and Elena looks like she’d be snapped in two by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena leans back against the counter, folding her arms across her chest and scowling. “No. Not there,” she says. “It doesn’t really matter where.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod, Madam M begins to pick out a few products from the box. She can think of one bar owner who’s looking for someone to round out his crew. So far she hasn’t heard a single complaint about him from her girls about his managing style or any kind of harassment. It’s a safe bet, with higher-end clientele. Or, as high as the slums can get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you own more than just that uniform?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M sighs after a long silent moment. “You can borrow something today for your interview. Do you at least own a little black dress?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Come with me, we have to get your face in order. I’ll lend you a dress for today.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My brain really said "of course you can simultaneously and consistently update four multichap fics at once!" so here's the latest project I guess??</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elena snags the job, and Madam M’s work is done until the next time the blonde barges into her parlour weeks later. This time, she’s red-faced and angry, with fists bunched up in her pleated black skirt and mascara running down her wet cheeks. She clearly hadn’t splurged for the waterproof formula with her new weekly paycheques, but Madam M doesn’t really blame her. There are more important bills to pay, and she has a feeling that Elena (like so many of the other girls who come to her) has a lot of them.</p><p>“Look what the cat dragged in,” Madam M says as she rounds the counter and takes her hand gently. She quietly leads her over to the back room, with its lounge chairs and low table and burning incense.</p><p>Elena’s shoulders shake as she sits on the edge of one of the chairs, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I need… a new job.”</p><p>“Did something happen?”</p><p>Elena shakes her head. “My manager is fine. My coworkers are fine.”</p><p>“A customer, then?”</p><p>“My sister.”</p><p>Madam M was not expecting that. “Your sister?”</p><p>Elena sniffles and launches into the most uninformative explanation ever, but there are a few details that stick out and Madam M wasn’t born yesterday. Black suits? At the only bar in Wall Market that isn’t a total dive? It’s not hard to put the pieces together.</p><p>“She was so <em>angry</em>. She dragged me outside, told me I have to quit,” Elena says, rubbing angrily at her eyes. “So I need another job.”</p><p>In any other case, Madam M would have the customer blacklisted from every establishment in Wall Market for making one of her charges cry. But Shin-Ra’s Turks aren’t exactly the kind of customers one can just ban. They’re barely even the kind of customers you can force out after too many drinks (not that it happened often, they weren’t completely lawless when they were off the clock).</p><p>The only places Madam M knows that the Turks don’t frequent is exactly the kind of place they’d be for a job, and knowing what she does about them, that’s no good either.</p><p>“Do you want to quit?”</p><p>Elena wipes the tears from her cheeks, smearing her makeup even more. “No. I can’t.”</p><p>“Then don’t. Ask to work back-end whenever they show up,” Madam M says. “I’ll let your manager know, he won’t have a problem finding stuff for you to do behind the scenes. You don’t have to be visible to the patrons to earn money.”</p><p>Elena nods quietly, staring at her hands and all the makeup she’s rubbed carelessly off her face. “Okay,” she says finally. “Do you… have somewhere I can wash this off?”</p><p>Madam M leads her to the powder room, allowing her full reign over the cleansers and products there, before leaving her to it. Half an hour later, Elena comes out puffy-eyed and clean-faced, and heads home for the night.</p><p>~</p><p>Wall Market is lawless. It’s what everyone says, so there’s always trouble when topsiders come down to party. A lawless society with opportunistic topsider scum is never a good idea.</p><p>It’s why Madam M finds herself hurtling down the street from her parlour toward the bar. Luckily it’s a slow night, and her last scheduled client had been over an hour ago. Anyone who showed up at her parlour would just find themselves staring down at a thrice-locked door. What’s happening at the only well-established bar of Wall Market is far more important than a few more gil.</p><p>When she passes the threshold, it’s not hard to pinpoint the problem. A group of boys has crowded the counter, bombarding Elena with questions and waving their PHS cameras in her face.</p><p>The manager spots her and steps away from the customer he was helping. “Good, yer here,” he says, adjusting his hat. “Topside high schoolers, fake IDs. Normally I don’t care, they’ve good money, but they won’t stop harassin’ ‘Laney.”</p><p>Madam M grimaces. “Well they won’t be harassing her much longer,” she says as she turns to the group and eyes them warily. Rich Shin-Ra Academy boys might be harmless topside, but in the slums, they’re nothing but egotistic troublemakers in her experience. They come down on the train to let off steam and always leave a wreck behind them.</p><p>But if they come to the Wall Market, the so-called lawless zone of the slums? Then the victims always end up being the girls. This isn’t the first time she’s intervened in order to protect her wards from those who would threaten their livelihood here.</p><p>“Can’t believe you’re getting a free ride still, even after your dad pulled that BS,” one of the boys says.</p><p>“Marrying slum trash like that wasn’t the only mistake he’s made, I guess.”</p><p>“Maybe if you take your top off, I’ll tip you real nice,” another says, waving a twenty-gil note at her. “You need the cash, right?”</p><p>Elena is doing a good job ignoring them, pouring trays of drinks for her coworkers to take to tables, washing glasses and plates, and wiping down the counters. But her shoulders are hunched to her ears and her jaw is clenched so tightly she could break her own molars.</p><p>Madam M is about to unleash her rage on these unsuspecting trashbag teens when the Turks walk in.</p><p>“Get the hell away from her,” a girl with short blonde hair says, unholstering her gun and clicking off the safety. “Or I’ll make sure your futures are bleak and Shin-Ra will never have a place for you.”</p><p>Elena’s eyes blow wide and she ducks behind the counter as every patron in the bar stares at the two black suits in the doorway. The other one has dyed red hair and tattoos on his face, an electro-mag rod held loftily in one hand. All of the boys turn, expressions falling as they recognize the uniform for what it is. Madam M carefully stands aside with the manager and decides to see what happens.</p><p>After all, she may not <em>like </em>the Turks, but it prevents her from having to get her own hands dirty today.</p><p>“Oh, that the cute sister you were tellin’ me about?” the redhead says with a lazy smirk, but his eyes are sharp and dangerous as they pass over each of the five boys at the counter.</p><p>Every single one of the boys goes completely still.</p><p>“Did he say sister?” one hisses</p><p>“Sister of a <em> Turk </em>??”</p><p>“Fuck—”</p><p>“We should go, let’s go.”</p><p>They nearly trip over each other trying to leave and practically fall out the door at a run. Madam M can’t help but laugh, hiding her expression with her fan as she watches the two Turks replace the boys at the counter. The redhead takes a seat and grabs one of the untouched beers, sipping at it casually as the blonde folds her arms over her chest.</p><p>“Elena, stand up,” the blonde girl says.</p><p>Elena slowly rises, a dishrag clutched in her hands. “Emma, I can explain—”</p><p>“No. I told you to quit and you’re still here? Getting bullied by trust fund kids? You don’t belong here,” Emma says sternly, reholstering her gun. “You can get a job topside, I know you can. You’re smart, you’re top of your class—”</p><p>“Dad got fired,” Elena interrupts loudly, on the verge of tears. “We’re blacklisted. And the only way we can stay in the residential sector is if I work here, and they’re only letting me finish school because one of my professors sent in a letter of recommendation. So <em> don’t </em> tell me what to do.”</p><p>“What?” Emma stares at Elena, utterly thrown. “What do you mean he got fired?”</p><p>“He’s a mess and you’re never around, so you wouldn’t know how he’s been showing up lately,” Elena says, tears now falling freely as she glares at her sister. “He deserved to be fired, but I don’t deserve to be fucked over just because he couldn’t get his shit together.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me? I can send some money home, I can—”</p><p>“I don’t need your help,” Elena says quietly. “I don’t need anything from you.”</p><p>She throws the dishrag on the counter and stomps out of the bar and into the bustling nightlife of Wall Market, and as Emma stares helplessly after her, Madam M knows it’s now officially her time to intervene.</p><p>“You really weren’t joking when you said you left your life behind, huh,” she hears the redhead comment as the door shuts behind her.</p><p>~</p><p>It doesn’t take too long to find Elena in the messy jumbled streets of Wall Market. There are various places to hide, but none so popular as the old noodle shop, with its kind owner and comfort food. Many of Madam M’s charges come here for a cheap meal since it’s the only place that’s got affordable prices and big servings. It’s definitely one way to run a business in the slums.</p><p>Elena is sitting at the counter, idly spinning the seat back and forth as the owner whips up her order. The stark fluorescent lights only accentuate her ruined makeup, the black tracks of mascara that run down her cheeks and the frizz in her otherwise straight blonde hair. </p><p>“I’ll have a bowl too,” Madam M calls out to the owner, and he raises his hand to let her know he’s heard.</p><p>Elena looks up at the sound of her voice, trying hard not to burst into tears again. “Why are you here?” she asks accusingly.</p><p>Madam M sits down in the seat beside her, adjusting her robes. “You look like you could use a friend right now.”</p><p>“I could use a lot of things,” she says with a hiccup. She’s quiet for a moment, but when she finally turns to look at her, Madam M sees nothing but anger and pain in her eyes. “How much did you see?”</p><p>“All of it, sweetie,” Madam M says honestly, flicking her fan open. “From the moment your sister walked in, to the moment you walked out.”</p><p>Elena stares at the white stained counter, hands clasped over it, and sighs. “Are you going to throw me out too?” she asks.</p><p>Madam M hides her smile behind her fan. A naive topsider really would think like that. “The slums take in society’s dregs and rejects,” she tells her. “If you think there isn’t a place for you here, then you must really think we’re as heartless as all the vainglorious topsiders you live amongst.”</p><p>“So, you won’t tell anyone? Who I am?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Madam M says solemnly. “After all, you’re just Elena here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The two typos I've made the most while writing this story have been "parlous" and "magam."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elena isn’t the only girl who Madam M knows has a sad story. Every girl she’s ever helped has one, and she routinely checks in on all of them whether it’s a call on their PHS or a visit in person. She has a running list, and they visit her parlour sometimes for tea, gossip, and updates. One recently got engaged to a SOLDIER, another just opened their own shop, and Madam M is proud to see all of them growing and thriving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Elena’s the first Academy student she’s ever needed to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Shin-Ra Military Academy in Midgar is known for its pre-SOLDIER program, science program, and research and development streams, but Madam M doesn’t think she suits any of them. A Turk sister and an ex-professor for a dad, though? That’s a clue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M never pries, never digs too deep. Some stories need a level of trust to be told, and she doesn’t like breaking the bits of trust she’s been given, but she can’t help it. There’s something about Elena that makes her want to break her own carefully set rules, and she intends to figure out exactly what that thing is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s why she calls the only Turk she actually likes, an ex-slum girl who she’d taught how to curl her hair and apply perfectly sharp eyeliner for her Shin-Ra interview years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her PHS rings twice before she picks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Cissnei.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gunshots echo over the line and Madam M smiles. “Is this a bad time?” she asks sweetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cissnei grunts and there’s a clatter. “For you, Madam M? Never!” Then she hisses, presumably over her earpiece, “You sure are taking your sweet time, Shotgun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They really overwork you there, don’t they?” Madam M says, unfazed by the activity on the other end of the line. It’s not unusual for this to happen, and she’s come to expect to hear these kinds of action movie sound effects on the rare time she calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say that again,” Cissnei grumbles. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to know another Turk named Emma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gun? Of course I do, what about her?” Two shots fire off so loud that Madam M figures Cissnei is the one who fired this time. “Oh, she was in Wall Market over the weekend with Reno, did you run into her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely sounds out of breath even in what’s clearly a shootout and Madam M is a little impressed. “I did. Her sister is one of my charges. Would you be able to send me anything you might know about her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t like to pry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, but she’s special. Just find out what she’s studying at the Academy, that’s all I really need,” Madam M says. “Anything else is a nice bonus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, M. Talk soon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon” turns into a week later, but Madam M isn’t too bothered. Cissnei doesn’t visit often and rarely talks about work, but it’s quite clear that she leads a busy life. But Cissnei has always been good on her word, and when Madam M finally receives a call, she knows the wait will be worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M doesn’t spend her week waiting for her PHS to ring either. She has an itinerary of things to do, like stock up on massage oils, do groceries, go for drinks with Sam and Andrea, bet on the Coliseum tournaments, and attend to her clients. Anything for a bit of gil and whatever comforts that gil can afford her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, Madam M is currently at the Coliseum watching the Champion she so graciously agreed to back get absolutely trounced by the Champion Sam had brought when Cissnei finally calls back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The announcers are loud over the crackling speakers as they announce Madam M’s defeat, and the crowd’s cheers are practically deafening, so with a pointed glare at Sam (who infuriatingly grins back from under the brim of his hat), Madam M steps away to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better have some good news for me because I just lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cissnei laughs. “Still betting at the Coliseum, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not betting,” Madam M says indignantly, “it’s supporting up and coming talent by giving them opportunities for exposure and infamy. The one I chose today just happened to be a total dud who’ll never get anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, M,” Cissnei says, laughing again. “Anyway, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have some good news about the girl you wanted to know about. Wanna hear it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you know, since she’s your charge, her name is Elena,” Cissnei starts. “Last name redacted, because I’m not about to let you search up anything about her family. There’s a reason Gun left them behind and even I’m not stupid enough to look into that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, she’s in her final year at Shin-Ra Military Academy. I’m assuming you already know this too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. So, here’s the interesting thing about her stream: she’s not in one,” Cissnei says conspiratorially. “But from what I can tell, her classes all line up with the ones Gun took.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Many students aren’t in a stream though, they just don’t know what they want to do,” Madam M says logically. “It’s not unheard of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but, I checked with some of the other Turks who were pulled from the Academy, and they all had the same classes too,” Cissnei explains. “And not only is she taking those same classes, but she’s excelling in all of them. Almost perfect grades, top of her class in hand-to-hand combat and firearms, with a solid grade in materia, and her professors have nothing but good things to say about her. Well, until two months ago. Looks like she started skipping classes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes sense.” Madam M nods. “She said that one of her professors sent in a letter of recommendation to keep her at the school when her dad was blacklisted. Do you know who sent it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, give me a sec. Maybe I can find a copy… ah, bingo! That was easy. Lemme just skim this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M waits patiently, the noise of the Coliseum grating on her nerves as badly as her loss. She looks over her shoulder at Sam and Andrea, past them at the next fight that’s been paid off to be drawn out for the suspense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh wow, you’re not gonna believe this!” Cissnei says finally, like she’s holding on to a juicy piece of gossip. “Actually, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> barely believe this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tseng. He’s second in command here, our boss’ little </span>
  <span>protege</span>
  <span>,” Cissnei says gleefully. “I think Elena is seeded to become one of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M’s </span>
  <span>grin is absolutely feral</span>
  <span>. “Thank you, Cissnei. You should visit soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. Will do, M!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line goes dead and Madam M composes herself, taking in a deep breath and trying not to let her giddy smile show through her usual cool demeanour. When the doors open back up to the arena, the noise hitting her like a wall, Sam still looks smug about his win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really know how to pick the losers, dontcha,” he says with a hearty chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just </span>
  <span>smiles demurely at him</span>
  <span>, holding up her PHS. “I just won something even better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tea at the parlour is always a good time. Madam M gets to see her charges, catch up with them, hear about their successes, and soothe their worries. Her collection of Wutian teas is extensive, and there’s a flavour for every mood and palate. She knows from previous visits (when she’s a bit too early for her shifts) that Elena is partial to the fruity flavours, and loves the strawberry matcha in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve never talked about much before, nothing personal, just stories from the bar. Elena’s good at avoiding topics and changing the subject, and she has a natural segue for every occasion. She’s chatty when it comes to everything except the personal stuff, and she never stays longer than it takes for the two of them to drain the teapot to the dregs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Madam M didn’t invite her to talk about her feelings. Instead, she has a proposition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets up her backroom the way she always does for guests, with a freshly brewed pot of tea on the low table, two teacups, and a plate full of cookies and treats from the bakery in Sector 5, because for this meeting, in particular, she refuses to spare a single expense that might win Elena over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena arrives quickly enough, as punctual as Madam M knows her to be from the way her manager crows on about it. She’s in her black pleated skirt again, the colour faded and the hem frayed from too many washes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Madam M,” she says as the door to the parlour shuts behind her. “You wanted to see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dear, I did. Come in, come in,” Madam M says, ushering Elena into the back. “I made tea, feel free to indulge in whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena sits down and picks up the teacup, pouring some in from the pot and breathing in deeply. “Ahh, you always make the best tea,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M preens. “I really do,” she agrees, gracefully taking the other chair in a swirl of her robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena blows at her tea, letting the water ripple as she sits cross-legged on the lounge chair. She’s always worn shorts underneath, so it’s not nearly as immodest as it could be considering the length of her skirt. “So, why’d you want to talk to me today? Did something… happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way her whole being drops at the prospect of bad news has Madam M smiling sympathetically at her. “No, nothing has happened. Nothing bad, anyway,” she assures her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… so then--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re aware I help girls of all kinds here in the slums?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, you should know that I keep tabs on all of them. I check up on them frequently to see if they’re doing alright. This is just that,” Madam M explains. “Are you doing alright, Elena?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena fiddles with the fraying hem of her skirt, biting her lip. “Um. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M has a feeling that she’s lying, but doesn’t call her on it. After all, the Emma Incident was just over a week ago, and she doesn’t expect Elena to have gotten over it that easily. If anything, she bottled it up and shut it out. Not the worst tack, especially when girls only a couple of years older would have drowned themselves in drink or worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also,” Madam M starts, “thought that I’d offer you an opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena cradles her teacup in her palms, brow furrowed. “Opportunity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You’re a student of the Shin-Ra Military Academy, so you must have some level of combat skills?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um...” Elena’s gaze latches on to the plate of cookies, and she grabs one and takes a big bite out of it, no doubt stalling for time, figuring out a safe response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M just smiles. “I heard all students have mandatory defense classes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do,” she says after she’s swallowed and chased the bite down with some tea. “I’m in the combat training courses though.” Here, she blushes, the tips of her ears going red as a shy proud smile stretches across her lips. “I’m… top of my class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, that’s impressive!” Madam M says, leaning forward with interest. “What do you train against in classes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Other students, sometimes our teachers. But we get to use the VR training system, and in there we fight against all kinds of Shin-Ra tech and monsters.” Elena visibly brightens up as she goes into detail, a smile coming easily to her lips as she recounts the time she took down a set of Sweepers while disarming a platoon of Shin-Ra troopers. She’d beaten the class record.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M listens with a carefully polite smile, trying to look interested but not nearly as invested as she actually is. Andrea and Sam both have laughed over drinks about how intense she can look without even saying anything and the last thing she wants to do is scare off the ward she’s trying to protect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite the feat,” Madam M says. “You should come to the Coliseum with me sometime, it’s kind of like your training but with, well… things that aren’t programmed, and who definitely don’t fight fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Coliseum?” Elena’s eyes light up. “I’ve heard of the fights there, it seems so cool…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that makes Madam M’s job of convincing her even easier. “It’s a lot of fun. I actually have VIP seats there, and frequently back Champions for the fights. You can earn a lot of money as a fighter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches the gears creak into motion in Elena’s head at the prospect. “What kind of money?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M sits back and shrugs, flicking her fan open and fluttering it. “Oh, anywhere between a few thousand to a few million gil. Depends on the turnout and how much the crowd likes you, but that’s the easy part. Winning is tricky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you’re good, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hides a grin behind her fan. “True enough. If you’d like to come on one of your nights off to watch, just let me know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m free Friday night,” Elena says quickly. “Um, if you’re going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hook, line, and sinker.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Got way too excited about this chapter. Told myself I'd update this weekend and it's literally 2am on a Saturday, but that still counts as the weekend!!</p><p>Next update will be in about a week :3 hope y'all are enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is no “weekend rush” in Wall Market. Every night is a rush in the slums, with bars and clubs filled to the brim, loud music blasting wherever you go. Madame M wonders if Andrea ever gets sick of it, even though he’s a big part of it all. Sam, at least, has his business, driving all over the slums to pick up and drop off patrons in his chocobo-pulled carriages. He can get away if he really wants to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madame M remembers the last time she was in the back of one of them. It’s too long ago, and yet, not long enough. But tonight, she’s headed toward his corner of Wall Market and hopefully won’t make that mistake again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy,” Sam greets her with a tip of his hat as she leaves the Sector 6 gates, where his business resides on the outskirts. “Fancy seeing you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think you’re funny,” Madam M says with a flick of her fan, “don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just chuckles. “Out with it. You’re never out here unless you want something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles demurely. “Do you remember the cute new ward I’ve taken? Elena?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s the blonde with the pigtails, huh?” Sam asks, rubbing at the scruffy stubble on his jaw. “Got a Turk for a sister if the rumour mill’s got any merit to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Madam M brushes past him and into the stables he keeps, “that’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam follows her through the stables and into the back where he keeps his office, a small room with a big desk covered in papers that document all of his drivers, all of the rides they’ve given to slum folk, all the payments received, and all of the costs and wages he has to pay. Madam M carefully moves some of the papers aside and sits at the edge of the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well isn’t that something,” Sam says when he shuts the door behind them. “Though I guess not unheard of down here. Ain’t some of them Turks from the slums?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And some are topsiders through and through,” Madam M says with a shrug, flicking her fan open and sighing. “Anyway, I’d like a favour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course you do.” He grins, taking a seat at his desk. “What can I do you for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M sighs, eyes glancing at the newspaper clippings on that wall, judging the messy state of his bookcase full of tomes on chocobo breeding. “Tell me what you’re putting in for the tournament on Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I need to make sure you’re not playing dirty,” she says simply. “So, is it Shin-Ra tech? Or that bozo with the hellhounds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, who are you putting in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smiles behind her fan. “Isn’t it obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blondie?” Sam asks, shocked. “A little wisp of a girl like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would be surprised how much offense she’d take to that,” she says. “She could kick your ass, from what I’ve been told. Maybe even wrangle one of your chocobo’s. I know I won’t underestimate her anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shakes his head, grinning ear to ear. “Well then, if you say the lass can, then guess I’ll have to show my hand too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better.” She scowls. “Otherwise, I came all this way for nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you got to see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M rolls her eyes. “Just tell me who’s entering, I want to make sure she’s not in over her head if she ends up entering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She might not?” Madam M glares at Sam and he backs off. “Okay, okay, I got you, let me just pull up the roster so far. I know that bozo with the hellhounds is gonna be there, says he got some new breeds, but we’ll see. Then there are some janked up Shin-Ra mechs and the Don’s thugs. Nothing unusual. And I’m entering some new kid with a sword. A SOLDIER wannabe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A trainee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Sam waves his hand flippantly. “Failed the standard testing three times, but the boy’s got gumption, I’ll tell you that. I think he just needs a win, he’s not completely hopeless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smirks, flicking her fan shut with a loud snap. “You might want to pick another day for him to debut. I wouldn’t want Elena killing what hope he has left.” With that, she stands and waves. “Thanks for the tip, but don’t think I owe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena shows up to the parlour like she ran a marathon across the ruined expressway, grin wide across her face. She’s dressed in her pleated skirt again, a piece Madam M has realized is one of the few pieces of black clothing Elena owns and is therefore getting her money’s worth on wearing it as much as possible. Somehow, it’s even more frayed than it had been the last time they’d seen each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to go?” Elena asks, leaning heavily on the counter as she catches her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, almost.” Madam M gives her another once-over and smiles sweetly. “I have a gift for you,” she says, gliding toward the back room. Elena follows close behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technically it’s not a gift so much as a re-gift. Not-so-new clothes for a fallen topsider, especially if she decides to take part in the tournament. The Coliseum doesn’t take its rules seriously, and entrants can sign up in the middle of a tournament if they so wish. Controlled chaos, the kind that had graciously won Madam M many a bet. And the kind that had lost her a few too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A box lays on the low table, innocuous and undecorated if only because there’s no use for fanfare when it’s nothing all that special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going to be my guest in the VIP box, you have to at least look presentable,” Madam M says, gesturing for Elena to open it. “After all, just because Wall Market is known to be tacky, doesn’t mean we have to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena’s eyes blow wide as she lifts the lid of the box, settling it back onto the table. Inside is a black modified kimono, the brocade embroidered with white flowers, a new pleated skirt, and a white obi. Madam M hemmed it much shorter than a traditional kimono, mostly for movement, but also to highlight the fact that Elena’s legs are extraordinarily long for a girl who’s still growing. Just some incentive for the audience to cheer her on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, this is beautiful,” Elena murmurs. “You’re giving it to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am. You’ll look beautiful in it, I’m sure.” Madam M smiles softly. “Put it on, and then we’ll go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Coliseum is bustling with energy when they arrive. Elena’s eyes are all over the place, soaking everything in from the explosive teddy bears to the sign-up forms. Her eyes linger on the latter, and Madam M just had to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wish to enter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena laughs nervously. “Um, maybe not tonight,” she says. “I wanna see what the fights are like first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Madam M nods in agreement. “The fights here aren’t always fair, full of twists with no set rules.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like the kind of stuff they’re training us for,” Elena says thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smiles, letting the gears turn in her head till they reach the same conclusion she had arrived at only a week prior. Even if it’s just to win some bets on her part, she knows Elena could use the kind of gil that this place doles out to winners, whether for necessities like rent, or teenage things like cute new clothes. After what Madam M has seen of her closet, she’s due for some, everything fitting too tightly or loosely, too worn or faded. She knows slum locals with clothes in better condition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, it’s Elena’s own decision whether she wants to fight and what she wants to spend her winnings on. Madam M isn’t interested in forcing her wards to do anything. All she can do is nudge them in what she hopes in a helpful direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, though, it will benefit her wallet as well as Elena’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They take the elevator up to the stands, and Madam M leads the way down a hall guarded by the Don’s lackeys. The cheers from the crowd are deafening when they enter the VIP box. There isn’t an extra seat, but it’s no problem. After all, tonight Madam M doesn’t have a stake in any of the fights yet, so she doesn’t need to grip the arms of her chair or curse her way out of the box tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a seat, I’m going to go check on some things behind the scenes,” Madam M says as they arrive, gesturing for Elena to sit. “Don’t worry about these two,” she says, glancing at Sam and Andrea, who are both intently focused on the current fight. “Just enjoy the matches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena nods, too excited to pay her much mind as she turns to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not staying to see the wannabe SOLDIER?” Sam asks suddenly, his eyes sliding to hers. “He’ll be a sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smirks. “I’m sure he will be.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>casually... adds a couple more chapters to the count...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Madam M doesn’t expect clients until after regular work hours. She doesn’t necessarily keep the door to her parlour locked, but there is a sign out front letting clients know she is not open and will not be taking appointments until past six.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when the door opens anyway, she expects Don Corneo’s thugs. She does not expect Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Madam M, correct?” she asks, adjusting the black leather gloves she wears. “I have a few questions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smiles, irritation veiled by a polite smile. “Why do I get the feeling your questions do not relate to the work you do at the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they don’t,” Emma says matter-of-factly. “What’s your deal with Elena?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M peers out the door, where two more Turks stand. Neither are Cissnei, but the redhead is back and leering at every passerby that comes too close. She sighs and stands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like some tea? Imported, of course. Only the best for guests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leads the way, and Emma follows if only because Madam M brooks no argument when she slides open the door to the backroom. Emma sits down as she goes through the motions of a good hostess, plating some biscuits and setting them on the low table along with a candle while the kettle boils. Madam M takes the silence as an opportunity to study her unwelcome guest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blonde like her sister, but with short hair that comes to her chin with harsh bangs that cut across her face. She’s much more imposing, and not just because of the guns strapped to her. Her posture, her gaze, even the hard line of her lips, all make Madam M think she needs a stiff drink. She’d be pretty, far prettier than Elena, if she didn’t try so hard to throw away every ounce of femininity she has. Even her suit makes her curves look flat. Though in her field, Madam M sees why that could work for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call off the men in front of the parlour, by the way,” Madam M says, sliding her gaze to Emma as she spoons out loose leaf tea into two teacups. “I don’t get clients until nightfall, and everyone here knows not to barge in till then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, of course,” Madam M adds, “this isn’t about anything you do for Shin-Ra, on- or off-record so I’m not sure why you brought them in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re a safety net. In case Corneo or his thugs decide to stop by,” Emma says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smiles wryly, pouring hot water into each cup and sliding one across the table. “Smart girl. That slug knows not to mess with Shin-Ra dogs, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma bristles. “I see you don’t take sides.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down here, the only side anyone should be on is their own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re only helping my sister out of your own self-interest?” Emma asks, the accusatory tone making Madam M smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she’s just one of my many wards. I take care of the girls who find themselves here, get them what they need to stand on their own two feet,” she explains, flicking her fan open and fluttering it against her chest. “She came to me, asking if I could find her a job. I hardly knew who she was, she didn’t give me a surname or a backstory or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a lie, not that Madam M intends to lie at all. She’s more interested in seeing behind the curtain, who Emma is without her job and title. If she can manage to glean a single thing from this meeting, it’s a glimpse behind the mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s eyes narrow, no doubt suspicious. “She’s just another stray?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly.” Madam M hides a laugh behind her fan. “She’s talented and kind and, from what I’ve heard, completely undeserving of the hand she’s been dealt, no thanks to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma visibly stiffens, and Madam M smirks. She doesn’t, however, rise to the bait. “You’ve been taking her to the Coliseum,” she states.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, she expressed an interest in going with me and it’s become a weekly occurrence,” Madam M says. “Actually, this week she wants to enter the tournament.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently she’s a talented fighter,” Madam M continues conversationally. “Top of her class at the Academy. She wants to test her mettle, I guess. Or maybe she saw this week’s prize money? She’s been struggling on her own just for the cost of living, so I don’t blame her if she’s making her decisions based on the amount of gil in her wallet alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looks positively appalled. “She can’t,” she says, gripping her teacup so tightly her knuckles go white and Madam M thinks it’ll shatter in her hands. “She could just ask me for help--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M shrugs. “She’s made it quite clear to me that she doesn’t want handouts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m her </span>
  <em>
    <span>sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, that means very little when you’re the one who abandoned her with your father, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma grits her teeth, eyes on fire. “You’re no replacement,” she seethes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t try to be,” Madam M says. “The girls who come to me want to be independent. I’m a stepping stone, not a mother-figure. Why should I stop them from forging their own way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teacup clatters onto the table and Emma stands abruptly, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. “Because she’s not even legal, she can’t make these decisions for herself. She doesn’t know what’s right or safe or--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know,” Madam interrupts, words slow and she can see Emma hanging on to each one, “that your boss has already decided her future for her? I had no say in that, and neither did you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tseng? Is that his name?” Madam M flutters her fan before snapping it shut with a flick of her wrist. “He’s the one who kept her enrolled at the Academy. That recommendation letter Elena told you about? That was from him. He’s going to recruit her into the Turks once she graduates, and then neither of us can protect her. The Coliseum is child's play compared to your… off-record activities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s ears have turned red, brow furrowed in anger. “Where did you get your information?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M just smiles. “Does it really matter? You should ask him yourself.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wrote this chapter to EXO's Obsession album. not that it affected the writing or anything, it's just a really good album.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By all means, Madam M shouldn’t have thrown her knowledge of Elena’s life in Emma’s face, especially when none of it had been given freely to her by Elena herself, but she hardly feels much guilt over it. Emma left hours ago, but something about the encounter left a bitter taste in Madam M’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts it down to her distaste for topsiders, who always come down to the slums acting like they own the place, like they can tell anyone here what they can and can’t do. As if the slums, Wall Market, is full of nobodies and scum who want to take advantage of others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her PHS rings with a notification, a text from Sam along with a picture of her favourite dive bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;&gt; Want some takeout? We need to talk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, tapping her manicured nails on her counter as she awaits clientele. It’s a slow night, but nothing she can’t handle. After all, she still has her winnings from the Coliseum last week. It’s not like she’s struggling, not in a Sector that relies on the overindulgence of anyone who walks through the gates.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;&gt; it’s slow, why not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M stands, going to flip the sign out front so no one walks in and wondering what Sam could possibly want to talk about, if he saw the Turks standing outside her parlour earlier, or maybe he’s still not over that slew of mistakes that happened over a year ago. Perhaps he’s looking for a tip on the Coliseum matchups. Signs point to any or all of the above, and Madam M doesn’t put too much stock in trying to guess. Taking it as it comes seems to be the pattern of the day, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not too much longer before Sam is in the doorway, tipping his hat with one hand and holding two bags of takeout with the other. “Howdy, Madam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes and comes around the counter to relieve him of one bag. “Evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully shuts the door behind him with an audible click and turns to her, suddenly serious. “I saw suits outside earlier. You in topsider trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M scoffs. “Hardly. They have no jurisdiction here, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the second time she’s led someone to the back room, and she sits heavily onto one of her lounge chairs. Sam eyes her warily before taking the other seat. “So what was it all about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elena. Her Turk sister paid me a visit,” Madam M says digging into her takeout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a Wutian-style curry bowl, and she beams at the sight of her favourite comfort food. While the folk in the slums preferred the noodles, she’s always had a taste for the less-ordered curry. It’s thoughtful of Sam, sweet in a way that Madam M doesn’t want from him, but she’s grateful nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’d she want?” Sam asks, breaking his chopsticks in two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still got an unpracticed hand, but he always makes an effort to use them whenever he visits, when he eats food from her home. “She thought I was taking advantage of her,” Madam M says, breaking her chopsticks apart too and rubbing them together. “Then she accused me of not protecting her. Like I’m her mother or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam smirks. “You? A mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could be, if that’s what I wanted,” Madam M says, glaring at him. “But I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says. “That’s why you go around helping every lost girl who walks through the gate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat in silence, and Madam M reminds herself to pick up curry more often. She tends to cook her own food or fill up on whatever Andrea has the bar serving at the Honeybee Inn, but she’s honestly lucky to live near the only authentic Wutian dive in the entirety of Midgar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, were you just checking up on me? How sweet,” Madam M says mockingly. “I’m doing fine though, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shakes his head. “You always are. We had no doubts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrea too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worried like a mother hen, but the Honeybee Inn, you know,” Sam says. “Damn busy, hardly ever closed. He’s got back-to-back shows tonight too ‘cause of that event, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M shrugs. “Typical. At least he’s happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see ‘im Friday, at any rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirks. “Elena’s entering this week. Is your wannabe SOLDIER boy going to show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been a no-show for the past few weeks, but Sam is determined that he’ll be the one to clinch him a tournament win and all the money that comes with it. Not that Madam M thinks he has a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Training, ‘pparently,” Sam mutters. Then a grin spreads across his face. “Though lucky you, we might get our showdown this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Friday comes soon enough and Madam M closes up shop for the whole night to help Elena. After all, it’s her Coliseum debut, and while it may not be some topsider debutante ball, Elena still needs to look good. In fact, she needs to look even better than usual, with cute clothes and cuter makeup. Cute, because it’ll make everyone underestimate her. Cute, because that will make sure the gil lining their pockets by the end of the night will be heavy and jingling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why she pulls out a haori, similar to the first except in its colour palette. It’s a dusty pink with black embroidery, paired with the same short, high-waisted pleated skirt from last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena is just as impressed with this one as the last one, and said she’d be honoured to wear it to a fight as long as she didn’t need the obi. Instead, she keeps the haori open, wearing her black sports bra and biker shorts underneath it. Lip gloss, a dusting of blush across her cheeks and nose, and eyeliner to make her eyes look bigger complete the perfect debut look. Madam M feels she’s outdone herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elena fidgets, grinning widely with excitement as they make their way across the sector to the Coliseum. “I beat my own records in class this week,” she says, rightfully showing off. “I feel invincible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you should,” Madam M agrees with a smile. “I hope you have fun during your fights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? I’m gonna have a blast!” Elena exclaims, throwing her hands up. “I saw the sign-ups earlier, and I recognize a lot of them. Only one might be a challenge? But if I win them all I can pay rent for the next three months! How amazing would that be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really didn’t need help being cute, the excited flush on her cheeks overpowering the blush Madam M had applied earlier. “You’d be able to support yourself that long? You’d better do your best then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I definitely will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pass through the thick crowd in the Coliseum, heading straight for the elevator. Elena’s so familiar with everything that she almost follows Madam M into the VIP box instead of going to the waiting rooms, where the other challengers await their match-ups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, there’s a vending machine with potions and such in the waiting room, so stock up after every fight,” Madam M advises. “Otherwise? Just wait for your name to be called, and break a leg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The commotion in front of the doors to the VIP box is unexpected, right up until Madam M sees a bob of golden blonde hair hidden under a black cap. Then, it’s completely expected. She has one of the guards up against the wall, hand choking him around his neck. Madam M sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Emma. Didn’t you know this is for Corneo’s top three?” She feels sleazy just invoking that name, but it’s a fact the entire sector is familiar with. “You didn’t get an invite, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma lets go of the guard posted at the door and whips around to face her. She’s in civilian clothes, jeans and a hoodie, and she looks so startlingly normal that it’s no wonder Madam M hadn’t recognized her right away. And just as she’d expected, Emma’s actually got a figure under that ill-fitting suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her name’s on the list,” Emma growls. “I can’t believe you’re letting her into the ring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to watch from the best seats in the house? You can witness for yourself just how good she is,” Madam M says, pushing her way through the doors. “She’s with me,” she tells the guards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes a moment of hesitation before Emma barges in after her. The announcers are already hyping the crowd, and they walk into a wall of noise of clapping, screaming, and stomping. Emma’s noise scrunches up at the smell and sight of it all as Madam M takes her seat. Emma stands a step back and to the side of her, like her own bodyguard. Like a perfectly trained dog. Like Stamp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M swallows a laugh, rearranging her features to a cool neutral expression. “Would you relax? I’m not your charge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I checked into what you said,” Emma says, ignoring her. “About Elena’s future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did you find?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right,” she admits, her scowl making it clear she doesn’t want to. “My boss is going to recruit her straight out of the academy. He didn’t even consult me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you. I can’t stop her from fighting, and you can’t stop her from becoming a Turk,” Madam M says with a shrug. “Elena’s a strong girl, she can make her own decisions. She’s been making them since you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma bristles. “I didn’t mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Know what she told me earlier?” Madam M asks. “She said if she wins all her matches tonight, the winnings could pay for three months of rent. Who am I to stop her from wanting to support herself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told her I could help her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did she survive without your help, again? Your offer came too late, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Excuse me?</em>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if she’s going to be a Turk, she may as well learn how to fight dirty before she’s thrown into a mission, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma folds her arms across her chest and glowers at her. “Don’t lecture me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Madam M smiles, taking her fan from her sleeve and flicking it open. “Alright, I won’t.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>no one:<br/>absolutely no one:<br/>me: yeah emma's pretty hot actually</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Twitter :3 I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/piperEXE">@piperEXE</a> and I literally have no one to talk to about fic and writing.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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